Babel Novel
Chapter 86
Chapter 86
Michael and Charlotte are both watching me, laughter in his eyes, joy in hers.
“That was intense….” I say.
Michael slaps me a high-five. “Let’s share a glass,” he says.
“Excellent idea.”
He vanishes off to the kitchen while I release my emerald-eyed beauty. She perches on the edge of the
bed, still breathing a little quickly. I kiss her and wipe her face clean with a towel. “You look beautiful.”
The click of the door and the clink of glass. Michael enters with a tray bearing three flutes and a bottle
of cava, dewy with chill.
Yes, this is a celebration….
The wine bubbles and froths as he pours. “A toast I think,” he says.
He pauses for a moment then raises his glass. “To my future Wife, and my Best Man.”
What better toast?
I raise my own glass. “To my Best Friend and my Wife-de-Facto.”
And my Jade clinks her glass against ours. “To my Master and my Husband-To-Be.”
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Two Years Ago
“Are you ready, Charlotte?”
Her stomach clutching at the thought of what she is about to do, a young woman, twenty-two years old,
red-haired, green-eyed, scans the auditorium. Demurely dressed in blouse and skirt, the leather collar
at her throat is a biting reminder of the reality.
The hall is full, men of all ages, races, colours; perhaps two hundred or so. They have only two things
in common….
They are rich….
…. and they want to fuck a virgin.
She resists the rising panic.
One week….
It’s only for one week….
If she can keep her nerve, if does this right, she will be free.
“Charlotte, they’re waiting.”
Taking a deep breath, Jenny lifts her chin….
…. and Charlotte steps up to the podium.
*****
Klempner
The cell is plain. A narrow bed with a thin hard mattress, a steel lavatory and basin, a small locker with
no lock. The door stands ajar….
Only the free have privacy.
He sits on the bed, a book, well foxed, lying open on his lap; The Count of Monte Cristo.
A guard steps inside. “Just doing my rounds, Mr Klempner.”
“Of course, Mr Sutcliffe.”
Sutcliffe steps back for a moment, glances down the corridor then back in again. His voice lowers.
“Anything you need, sir?”
“Yes, there is. You can pass a message to Baxter for me. Those visitors I had. I'd like an eye kept on
them.”
“Just an eye, sir?”
“Just an eye, yes.”
“I'll pass the message along.” There is the click of footsteps down the corridor and his tone changes,
becoming louder. “C’mon Larry. It’s lights out soon.” He nods and leaves, closing the door behind him.
The sound of turning keys echoes from bare walls.
Klempner purses his lips, thinking perhaps, then picks up his book. Almost immediately, the lights flick
down low, too low for reading. He looks up and sighs, closes the book, and puts it to one side.
There is a click and a small, slatted viewing port on the door slides open. A guard, Hartland, peers
through, grunts, then snaps it shut again.
The half-light is uncomfortable, difficult for sleep. And with the long hours of inactivity, sleep is already
problematic.
Never true darkness….
True darkness also, is only for the free….
There are two photographs on the small locker; one is old and worn, tiny, of a young woman, red-
haired, green-eyed, smiling; her arm hooked around the waist of a man much younger than the one
lying on the hard mattress.
The other image, more modern, brighter, crisper, recent, is of a young woman, red-haired, green-eyed
and smiling.
In the gloom his eyes flick between the two pictures, then, head dropping back onto his pillow, they
close.
*****
About the Author
Although Simone Leigh is English, she spends much of her time in Spain.
Here, she divides her time between working on her tan, renovating her beautiful villa, swimming naked
in her swimming pool and writing erotica, including the Award Winning ‘Target’.
She was recently informed by an internet troll that she is ‘beyond redemption’.
Visit Simone Leigh’s Website
simone-leigh.com